yo, that's wack if i'm not the baddest


profile * old * mail * fucking sign it* or how about a nice note? you go forward / i'll go backwards


he drowned me once. he held my head down in the bathtub untli my body relaxed and i blacked out. then he gave me mouth to mouth and brought me back, held me there for a second and told me thats what happened when you fucked around.

i know what punk rock smells like, tastes like, feels like. it smells like the inside of his car, tastes like his sweat and aftershave, feels like hiding from the police reclined in stiff and rotting seats. it makes me panic and say fuck too much.

d-land